Remembered
by I Am The Twisted Girl
Summary: When Dusty is reaped for the 49th Hunger Games, she knows she can't win. 12 year olds never win, much less a 12 year old from District 12. But Dusty is a survivor, and when the games begin, will the Capitol give her the lucky break she needs to win?
1. Is good bye all you have to say?

**So. This is my 2****nd**** fan fic, and I hope you like it. I have a sequel planned (It will be slightly au), but if people hate this one, I won't bother. So REVIEW and tell me what you think. This is the reaping and the train ride.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own the characters, but not the concept of the Hunger Games.**

"Dusty, wake up." I open my eyes to see my brother Cameron's grim face looking over me. "It's almost time to go to the reaping." My first reaping. My name is in the big glass ball this year. Even if it is only once, I am no longer safe.

When he leaves my room I slip on my reaping dress. It is soft and yellow, with a poufy skirt, and a matching flower for my hair. I hate it. I miss my blue jeans, and t-shirts, and a long ponytail down my back. The only thing I still wear is the golden chain around my neck. It was my mama's, before she died.

Mama died in the mines. No one knows how or why. One night she just didn't come home. She'd been dead for days before they found her body, and now the fine golden chain is all I have left of her.

I finish with my clothes and go to breakfast, only a hard roll baked from Tesserae grain. My brothers Tesserae grain, because he wouldn't let me take any. But at least it is food.

"Come on, Dusty, its time to go." Cameron takes my hand and leads me to the square. My dad should be with us, but he's not. After Mama died he just left. No one knew where he went, and no one knows where he is. My brother is 18 though, old enough. Unless he is reaped. His name is in the drawing 31 times this year. Not as many as some, but the odds certainly aren't in his favor.

"I'll see you after," I say, going off to join my best friend Talia with the other 12 year olds. She gives me a hug, and we wait in silence. I can't tell she's been crying. Unlike me, Talia is the oldest of four, and her name is in the ball seven times. Twice for her, three times for her siblings, and twice for her parents.

The mayor is standing on the stage net to Dahlia Fray, District 12s escort. There are no victors. In 48 years, not one victor has been from district 12.

I don't listen to the mayor's speech; I stopped listening when I was seven, and had it practically committed to memory.

"And now, to name the District 7 tributes for the 49th Hunger Games!" He finishes his annual speech with this.

I watch Dahlia Fray prance up to the stage, and reach into the first glass ball with a shrill

"Ladies first!"

"Cynthia Stiles!" She calls, and my heart stops. I walk towards the platform. When I reach the stage, I grab the microphone she is holding and pull it to my lips.

"Call me Dusty, everyone does." I say, flashing a smug smile. Sometimes shock makes me do things I wouldn't normally dare to do.

"Of course." She says, surprised at my interruption. She regains her composure. "Well, are there any volunteers for Miss Dusty?"

There aren't. I am some how disappointed, even though I knew there wouldn't be. I hold my breath. _Not Cameron._ I think. How could I go to the games, not only to my death, but to watch my brother die as well?

"Mason Cable!" I smile at him. He is 17, and I know one thing. He has a hell of a better chance of winning than I do. We shake hands, and I let the Peacekeepers lead me to the justice building.

"Its ok, Dusty." Talia visits me first; her arms are wrapped around me, tears leaking out of her eyes. "Maybe you'll win, and then you can come home, and we can go to the bakers and buy a fancy cake." One of our favorite things to do when we have free time is look at the iced cakes in the baker's windows.

"Maybe." I say, but I know it's a lie. 12 year olds never win, it just doesn't happen.

When Talia leaves, my brother enters.

"Good bye." He says. No encouragement, no 'its ok' or 'you'll be all right'. Not even an 'I'm sorry you have to die like this'. Nothing. He leaves then, not waiting for an answer, and I let the Peacekeepers lead me to the train.


	2. But at Least Im not a Coal Miner

**Ok, second chapter. This is the only time I will update without reviews. For the next chapter I need five reviews. This is the train ride through the chariot ride. I'm trying to get the boring-ish stuff over and get to the training and the interviews. Then, of course, The Games!**

**(Insert usual disclaimer here)**

A pretty blonde girl from 1, an enormous boy from 2, another 12-year-old from 5, a strong looking girl from 7, a boy from nine with a long scar across his face. These are the faces that I remember. Nameless faces, because I've never been good with names. I turn to Dahlia, who is sitting next to me.

"Who'll mentor us?" I ask. I think it's more just to break the silence than because I actually care. It's not like I'm going to come out anyways, right?

"Oh, I'll train you for the interviews and such, but as far as combat training, you'll have the group training." She giggles.

"Is it just me," I ask Mason, who is sitting in a chair across the room, "or does she sound overly happy about the fact that in a matter of weeks, we will probably both be dead?"

"You know, you might be right." He smirks at Dahlia.

"Well, _I'll _be going now. The avoxes-" she gestures to the two men standing on either side of the door, "-will show you to your quarters so you can't change before dinner." She gets up and exits rather dramatically.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Mason and I both start laughing.

More food than I have ever had in my life. Chicken, bread that isn't made from Tesserae grain, all kinds of fruits, nothing we could've afforded back in 12. They have to realize that the districts are starving, and we're sitting in a train eating _chicken._ But god, it's delicious. And then dessert, cakes and pies, anything imaginable.

"So, any skills? Something to help you win?" I ask Mason.

He shakes his head. "I have no chance of winning. You?"

"Nope. I'll last as long as I can, then I'll die and hope it's painless. That's what we do in 12, right? We try to win, but eventually something beats us." I don't say it because I've already given up, because I haven't. I'll try my best to come home, but when the time comes I expect ill die just like the rest of them. I say it because it's true.

"Well." Says Dahlia, who has been unnaturally quiet through the whole meal. "We should all get some sleep now; we'll be reaching the Capitol tomorrow."

"Well, good night then." I say to Mason.

"Good night." He replies "'Night Dahlia." She smiles.

We're almost to the Capitol," Dahlias voice wakes me. "Get up and look presentable."

I drag myself out of the warmth and comfort of the bed. I pull on a dark blue jeans and a dark green t-shirt. I pull my hair into its normal ponytail. I don't care how I look. I put my fingers to my throat to make sure my mothers necklace is still there. It is.

I run out to the window to wave. If I'm going to win I need all the help I can't get. If I'm going to _win?_ Who am I kidding? I have no chance of winning. But I can't still try. I smile more when Mason joins me at the window. I turn to him.

"Mason?" I ask. "I was thinking, in the Games, do you want to be allies? You know, since neither of us has a chance of winning." I guess its just nervous babble to break the silence because I can never stand the quiet, but I really never thought about allies at all.

"Yeah, I think I would."

My hair is down around my shoulders in loose waves, streaked with glittering black dust. My dress is black and glittering as well, and Mason is wearing a suit to match. We are far from outshining the other tributes, but at least we're not dressed as coal miners. The opening ceremony is about to start.

The Capitol cheers as District 1 rides out, and it all passes in a blur. The carriage lurches forward and I catch Masons arm for balance. Waves that are too enthusiastic and artificial smiles for the screaming crowd. Flowers and clouds of confetti raining around me. The colors are all too bright, swirling in and out of focus. I feel as if I'm going to pass out. Maybe I'll fall out of the carriage. Maybe it will run me over and I'll die. If you die before the games do they go back to your district and pick a new tribute? Do they leave your place blank? Do they send your body to the arena? I have to stop thinking like that.

Its over. Time to get out of the carriage. I can't. I'm off balance. Mason grabs my arm tightly, and I realize almost collapsed. Thanks. I'm not sure if I say it out loud or just in my mind.

He picks me up and carries me to the District 12 penthouse. He takes me to my room and lets me change, and then helps me into the bed. I wish that he had been my brother back in 12 instead of Cameron. I bet he would have said _good luck_, instead of just _good bye_.

**Thanks to anyone who is reading this story, next update will be training. Reviews are appreciated, even if it's just an **_**I like the story, keep writing! **_**Or even a **_**this sucks, you should give up now, **_**but constructive criticism is appreciated. Remember, 5 reviews and I'll update **


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